


No Place Like Home

by LandofWordsandNonsense (RiaHawk)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: And bigots, And shitheads, Beau WILL kick your ass, Beau hates a lot of people, Beau hates bullies, Beau will also get super drunk, Beau's family life sucks, Gen, Underage Drinking, Wizard of Oz AU no one asked for, alcohol use, pre-Nein Beau, rated T for Beau's mouth, tags to be added as story progresses, the Nein meet in a different order, using Exandria names but ignoring geography, woke up in a different world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaHawk/pseuds/LandofWordsandNonsense
Summary: Beau was convinced that Kansas was not designed for long term human habitation. It was gray and depressing and too goddamn flat, and she was bored out of her mind. Getting blackout drunk at the carnival seemed like a good idea at the time.And then she woke up somewhere else, with no idea where she was, how she got there, or how to get back.Well, at least it wasn't boring, if she could manage to live through it.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & The Mighty Nein
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. The Carnival

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my hard drive for a while, so I figured I'd toss it up partly as inspiration to finish it. This started from a conversation with my best friend, and sort of... exploded. It is entirely self-indulgent and I make no apologies. 
> 
> But we'll see how it goes~

Beau was convinced that Kansas was not designed for long term human habitation. It was gray and depressing and too goddamn flat, and there was just something fucking creepy about the interminable fields of corn and wheat. And there was nothing to fucking _do_ , out in the middle of Buttfuck, Nowhere. Beau hated it.

But at least it wasn't fucking Sonoma.

Her parents had shipped her off to distant relatives after she'd gotten arrested for the third time for selling bottles of her family label to kids at her high school and other general delinquency. Her father had washed his hands of her and packed her off to a second or third cousin in Kansas she barely knew and had less in common with for her senior year of high school. He'd phrased it that maybe she'd apply herself better with fewer distractions around. Beau cynically thought of it more as a case of 'out of sight, out of mind.'

She thought she'd have preferred getting kidnapped by monks.

The weird thing was, if he had shipped her off to Kansas a lot earlier, they both probably would have been happier. Xenoth was an ass and she made it her business to ignore him as often as she could, but Cousin Dairon seemed to understand her better than the rest of the family. At least, Dairon took the fact that Beau was the exact fucking opposite of feminine and _aggressively_ not straight in stride. Oh, they still clashed on a lot of things and Beau came hardwired with a 'fuck The Man' attitude, but at least it was a non-issue when Beau shaved half her hair off and got caught making out with another girl in the bathroom at the community center.

Which was a generous term for a rickety building with a half-basketball court badly in need of refinishing, a few general purpose rooms used for the occasional community class, and an exercise room that was absolutely not up to code.

So Beau didn't _object_ to Cousin Dairon, really, but this place had literally nothing going for it, and she absolutely wasn't going to stay here. The minute she turned eighteen, a month from now, she was gone. L.A. or Chicago or Seattle or New York or some other place with bright lights _anywhere_ but _here_ and _fucking_ Sonoma.

That wasn't to say that she couldn't find something to do on occasion.

There was some sort of traveling circus or carnival or something in town, and since there was literally nothing else going on, most of the people her age were going. She hadn't bothered asking permission and certainly wasn't going to pay attention to curfew; Xenoth would bluster and be disapproving but she really didn't give a shit what he thought, and Cousin Dairon would probably just roll their eyes and tell her it was her own fault if she had to go to school feeling like shit from staying up too late.

And possibly hungover because even in fucking Kansas they still sold booze and she had a damn good fake ID.

Which was why she was standing at the back of a crowd of high schoolers here because they had nothing better to do, passing a whiskey bottle around with some of her classmates and half listening to an older man in a hokey, old-fashioned ringmaster's coat and top hat as he led them around the fairgrounds, doing his spiel about the various 'curiosities' that they had acquired one way or another. He told a good story, she had to give him credit for that. If her teachers could be half as engaging as this guy talking about the Giant Devil Toad, she might have actually given enough of a shit to be doing better than barely passing. The other teenagers were mostly just snickering and making fun of the slightly ratty state of the carnival and their thrift store props, but Beau thought it was kind of fun, in the nerdiest way possible. Definitely better than sitting at home with a stack of homework she had no intention of doing.

Her attention was drawn from the current presentation by a couple of guys from her English Lit class who were being more assholish than usual. "-see that girl inside the tent? She's like some kinda fuckin' dwarf."

"Yeah, and then she's supposed to be some kinda fuckin' magic diva or some shit? Freaks like that shouldn't even be allowed outsi-"

The asshole cut off as Beau turned to look at him with her unfriendliest glare... which, considering she was gifted with Resting Bitch Face, was a sight to behold. Without breaking eye contact, she drained the last third of the bottle of whiskey in a single go, then chucked the bottle over her shoulder, somehow managing to bulls-eye the trashcan twenty feet behind her. "Keep talkin', dickhead," she snarled.

Three things were common knowledge about Beau. 

  1. The only extracurricular she hadn't been thrown out of was kickboxing. 
  2. The drunker she got, the meaner and fightier she got. 
  3. She had, stone cold sober, _absolutely_ beaten the shit out of the star linebacker because, it was rumored, she'd caught him talking shit about a disabled freshman.



"Ah... just jokin', Lionett," the first asshole said, backpedaling.

"Yeah, we just... we're drunk. Yeah. We're drunk, we've had too much, we're gonna head home now. Sleep it off," the second said nervously.

"You have three seconds before I turn you into road pizza," she said, glowering.

They believed her, and at least one of them should have gone out for track based on the speed they bolted at. She shook her head and decided she might need to kick their asses anyway at school tomorrow. Honestly, the only reason she had even given them the option to run at _all_ was that she didn't want to get kicked out of the carnival yet.

She _hated_ bullies. And bigots. And shitheads. And people who targeted people weaker than them.

Beau hated a lot of people.

The incident had soured her mood some, but the carnival was at least something new, and she lingered behind as the rest of the teenagers ended up drifting away. She had passed well and truly sloshed some time ago, and while she probably should start staggering home, she was in no particular hurry. There were a few more things she wanted to look at. Having most of a quart of whiskey inside her made her feel warm and loopy, and she wasn't giving any thought to her image or reputation as she peered at a glass case containing old programs and pictures about the history of the carnival. It looked like the core group had always been the same, though there were a few faces in the older material she hadn't seen around tonight. At least, she didn’t _think_ she’d seen that dude with all the tattoos in the background.

Not that she could be sure about that, the way her eyes were going in and out of focus. That last third of the bottle had probably been a bad idea. But fuck it, she'd had bad ideas before.

It was nearly midnight when she finally left; the carnival was closing down and the man in the ringmaster's getup had pointedly suggested that she should probably get home before the weather turned. And to be fair, the wind _was_ starting to kick up. Beau was too drunk to really care. She'd walked home in the dark before, and this wasn't any different. She'd just cut across some empty fields; it was shorter and even smashed, she knew better than walking along the road at night.

Downing the last third in a single pull had _definitely_ been a bad idea. Usually she had a better idea of her own tolerance, and she'd only gotten really blackout drunk once before, after a particularly gruesome fight with her dad on her sixteenth birthday. But she'd overdone it this time for sure. Things got pretty fragmentary after a while, and the last really clear memory Beau had before she blacked out was standing in the middle of a field staring up at the moon as the wind howled around her.

* * *

Waking up was about as unpleasant as she had expected it to be. Everything _hurt_ , and her head felt like someone had been using it to re-enact the entire Rocky franchise. Her mouth tasted like something had crawled inside and died. She cracked one eye open and immediately regretted it, so she scrunched both eyes tight and pressed the heels of her hands against them, cursing weakly under her breath and curling into a ball on her side.

"Oh! She's awake!"

"Is she okay?"

"She doesn't _look_ okay."

She didn't know the voices around her; they sounded like kids, and right now, she didn't give a fuck who they were. " _Shhhh_. Shush. No talky. Talking bad." It was just too loud for her hangover.

" _Some water when she wakes up_ ," an older, male voice said. That was followed by some faint chirps that didn't make any sense but at least they didn't grate on her hangover. Someone awkwardly shoved what felt like a canteen at her, and she fumblingly took it without opening her eyes.

"Ng. Thanks..."

"We should go tell Mr. Clay! He'll want to know she's awake!" The first voice was back, and entirely too cheerful.

"Yeah, come on!" Beau hissed involuntarily at the noise.

" _Let her sleep it off right here_ ," said the older male. Something soft brushed her face gently. " _Stay put_ ," a gruff but weirdly familiar woman's voice growled. Funny enough, it seemed to come from the same spot as the man's voice.

"Oh, you're gonna stay with her?"

" _Yes, I am very sweet~!_ " That was a different woman, this one with a nice accent. And that was definitely the same position as the other two adult voices.

She was still too goddamn hungover to think about this too much. Instead, she elected to just finish off the water. It was helping a little.

"Okay, we'll be back with Mr. Clay~" That elicited some more faint chirps and clicks. That seemed to settle it, because she could hear three or four people moving away.

Things were starting to be less overwhelming now, and Beau was able to pick out different sensations. She was outside, in the sunshine, laying on what felt like a pile of leaves that was strangely comfortable. She couldn't smell any of the normal farmland smells she would have expected after passing out in someone’s field, no fertilizer or corn or diesel from tractors, just a sort of non-specific mix of earthy and floral scent. And there was just something _weird_ about all of it. She groaned.

The soft thing brushed the top of her head again. " _She'll be okay_ ," the male voice said comfortingly. Then, a different male voice said " _This means we are friends_." This voice was quiet, and had a faint accent that wasn't the same as the woman's from before, as well as an unidentifiable quality that inexplicably made her think of her father's speaker phone.

Okay, the different voices thing was starting to get pretty weird, and her headache had receded to only agonizing. Cautiously, she opened her eyes. Then she actually forgot her hangover and gaped.

She was lying on a neat little pile of leaves, flowers, and mushrooms that looked suspiciously like it had been placed there on purpose, in a slight depression under a big, spreading tree. The land around rose up in gentle, picturesque hills that were even greener than the golf course back in Sonoma, without looking pretentious as fuck. It had a fairy tale sort of look to it, although there was something about it that gave the impression it hadn't been landscaped or groomed, just sort of happened. Beau sat up slowly and looked around. She was surrounded by more color than she could ever remember seeing around Cousin Dairon's place, and by more kinds of plantlife than she'd ever seen in California.

" _Shitfaced~!_ " That was the woman with the accent again, and Beau's gaze shifted down to find the source. Judging by the voices, she'd have expected at least three or four people standing around, but there was only one figure nearby. At first glance, it looked like a kid. It was about three feet tall, wearing a little green cloak sized to fit. But under the cloak was what could only be described as an anthropomorphic crow, with shiny black feathers and bright eyes studying her curiously. After a moment, the bird-kid reached out and patted her with one wing... hand? Wing. That was the soft thing she'd felt before, then. Then their beak opened, and the accented woman's voice said " _I am Kiri~!_ "

Beau stared at them. "....I sure as fuck am not in Kansas anymore."

" _Go fuck yourself~!_ "


	2. The Cleric of the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beau gets some answers she's not sure she likes, and directions for the next step of her journey.

At least her hangover seemed to be dissipating faster than she’d expected it to. She was smart enough to keep drinking the water that the little bird-kid- Kiri?- had given her, and somehow the sunlight didn’t make her headache worse. And it was nice and cool under the tree. Kiri didn’t seem inclined to pester her too much, just sat on a log nearby kicking her feet in the air and chattering to herself in different voices.

Which, okay, was _kind of weird_ , but since reality and logic seemed to have decided to fuck right off anyway, she could probably deal. It was probably all a dream anyway.

It beat trying to work out how much to fuck up on her calculus test.

It was a little hard to work out the passage of time; she’d never been good at it and something about the sunlight and the way the shadows moved threw her a bit, but she thought it had been nearly an hour when she heard the kids who’d been here before coming back. Now that she was paying attention, it sounded like there were three of them, and there seemed to be an adult with them this time.

She thought she could deal with whatever the weirdness was, and honestly, considering Kiri, she really should have. It still threw her.

There were four kids, not three, and they were _tiny_. The tallest was only just taller than Kiri, despite there being a definite sense that he was a teenager. There was a girl that seemed about his age that was slightly shorter, and two younger kids that were about the size of dolls. Honestly, after the initial surprise, that was practically mundane compared to everything else. 

It was the man that made her bluescreen.

He was tall and thin, practically a broomstick. He was also covered with soft, pale colored fur and had a long undercut that despite being bright pink, did not seem to be dyed. He also had a distinctly goat-like face, and long floppy ears. As they came up the hill, he was leaning on a gnarled staff with a crystal in the end, gravely listening to one of the kids. He seemed to sense that she was staring, and looked up to give her a slow smile.

“That’s nice,” he rumbled, and Beau started as she recognized one of the voices Kiri had been using. “Glad to see you’re awake. You were really _very_ drunk.” There was a note of disapproval that somehow actually made Beau feel a little guilty. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Beau said, shrugging. “Kind of figured I would. The water helps.” She gave him half a salute with the canteen. “Look, for once in my life, I’m not trying to be an asshole, but what the hell is going on? Where am I? Wha- _who_ the hell are you?”

He nodded, and settled on a rock, offering her another canteen he’d brought with him. “You’re just outside Hupperdook, the gnome city. My name is Caduceus Clay, the Cleric of the North. As for what’s going on… how much do you remember about last night?”

“Fuck all. Well, okay, I remember something about a storm… and I _think_ there was something about an asshole… but I could be wrong.”

Caduceus nodded, unsurprised. “Well, it seems to be that last night you were wandering around, and happened to run across the Schuster kids,” he indicated the kids (gnomes? He’d said this was the gnome city…). “And then before you wandered off again, the Wizard of the East ran across all of you.”

His tone suggested that was Significant, but hell if she could figure out how. Wizard. Sure. Why not. This wasn’t the most fucked up dream she’d ever had.

“We knew we shouldn’t be out after dark,” the teenage girl whispered. “But we were out looking for forage to help out our parents, and it got late, and we didn’t think we’d…” The littlest girl (and holy fuck how was she so _small_?!) whimpered and pressed into her sister, who rubbed her back. “The Wicked Wizard took people away, everyone knows that, but we thought it would be okay, we’re not that far away from the Blooming Grove and Mr. Clay can keep her out…”

Caduceus nodded. “She couldn’t challenge me in my own land, but… well, my power doesn’t extend as far as it used to.” He gave her a kindly smile. “But it all worked out. Seems you took offense when the Wizard of the East tried to take the children.”

The teenage boy nodded. “You saved us.”

Kiri flapped her wings and nuzzled against Beau. “ _Stay put. Fuck if I’m gonna let this shithead get you._ ” Beau started to realize that was her own voice. Sure, the latter half was slurred all to hell, but it was definitely her.

Then she frowned. “I’m hearing all of this in the past tense.”

Caduceus nodded peaceably. “From what they said, you gave her a pretty thorough beating.”

She winced. Yeah, she probably had. “She's going to be pissed…”

“Well, no. She's not going to be anything any more. She wouldn’t even make good tea.”

Beau suddenly felt cold. “What do you mean, she's not-”

“Well, even wizards can’t survive a fall into a ravine that deep.”

She stared at him. “She's dead?” He nodded. “I kil-?”

“And looted the body, which is a good deal more sensible than I thought you could be in that state.” He pointed at her wrist, and for the first time, she realized she was wearing a bracelet made of hefty, chunky beads. “The ruby bracelet. Old, powerful magic. The wizard used it to boost her power.”

Beau swallowed. “...This isn’t a dream, is it.”

“No. I’m afraid it’s not.”

She felt nauseous. Easy to blame it on the hangover, but… “I really shoved someone off a fucking cliff?”

Caduceus reached over and patted her hand gently. “Don’t feel bad about that. Not for her. She was horrible, and all she ever did was make people suffer. She'd _still_ be making people suffer if you hadn’t.” He studied her thoughtfully. “You’re a long way from home, I think.”

She snorted a little hysterically. “That’s the understatement of the fucking year. I should probably figure out how to get out of here… no offense.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “They do say that there’s a wonderful Magician in the Emerald City of Zadash. I think it would benefit everyone if you went and talked to him. It’ll be easy enough to find your way, if dangerous.”

“I don’t mind dangerous,” she said a little defiantly. 

He nodded. “I didn’t think you would.” He pointed to another low rise, where a straggling brick path stretched away into the distance. “Follow the yellow brick road. It’ll take you through the Savalierwood and the swamp straight to Zadash. But be careful.” He sighed a little. “The Wizard of the East is dead, but there’s still the Wizard of the West, and he's far worse than the other one. He _will_ want that bracelet, and on no account should you let him have it.”

“Of fucking course.” She took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay okay okay. I can do this.”

He gave her a slow smile that suggested he knew something she didn’t. “I’m sure you can. Good luck.”


End file.
